One Last Chance
by foreverme98
Summary: The war has been won. In the aftermath there are a lot of questions and very few answers. Eric's been imprisoned and Tris is trying to use her hero status to save him. The question is- will he let her? Eric's POV.
1. Chapter 1

"Your death will mean nothing," her rough tenor says, breaking the deafening silence he had long grown used to.

When was the last time anyone had made their way to his cell? It felt like years, but he assumed it was closer to several days. He was still alive after all. Or was he? There were times that he firmly thought himself to be dead and this new reality was his punishment- his Hell. Then there were other times that the smell of human waste and vomit was too pungent, too real, for it to simply be death. Not even Hell could be as bad as his current living space.

"Does anyone's death have meaning?" he questions curiously after a long moment. Emotions like anger and hate had dissipated months (perhaps years) ago. Whatever energy he had left was used to remember his brother- the only person he had ever truly cared for. He liked to think that when it was time for him to die, he would get to see Isaac again. It was a pitiful, pathetic wish, but that's exactly what he had become...pitifully pathetic.

Her reply is hard and yet compassionate at the same time. "Yes, if their lives meant something."

Somehow he croaks out a chuckle. "Well, then there you have it..."

Her black boots move until they're pressed against the metal bars. Her closeness is surprising enough for him to lift his heavy head just to see the expression on her face. As usual he finds that he can't read her. "I never believed you to be a quitter, you know," she says, the comment sounding more like a challenge than anything else.

He rakes his eyes over her, trying to figure out why she's here and why it sounds like she actually cares about what's going to happen to him. She doesn't care. He knows that, but it's hard to remember when he's been in solitary confinement for a year. The loneliness weighs on him like a heavy blanket. The desire to be around other human beings overwhelms him in his waking hours and haunts him in his dreams.

Her voice breaks him out of his reverie. "They're debating on what to do with you. Right now there's 6 people in a meeting, ready to determine your fate."

"It's about time," is all he can think to say.

"Half of them want you dead," she replies pointedly.

"And?"

Surprisingly enough, she slips her thin arm through the rusty bars. It's only when her warm hand wraps around his shoulder does he fully realize that she's touching him. It's been so long since anyone had touched him. In fact he couldn't recall anyone touching him as gently as she was now. "And you saved my life," she whispers shakily. "I can't let you die without knowing why you did it."

"Is that why you've been visiting me?" He had wondered countless times why she would take the time to see him once a week. It had started a few months ago, long after the Dauntless rebels had broken him.

"I don't know why I come."

The uncertainty in her green eyes backs up her quiet revelation. He'd often wondered if perhaps the people in charge was sending her down to get information from him, but he could never explain why the would send _her_. Unless she had informed them of his "good deed" and they thought she would be able to pry something useful out of him. But after months had gone by without her asking any questions regarding his involvement in the war, he had let that theory die.

His silence seems to make her uncomfortable because she quickly takes her had away and shifts back. "Why did you shoot Peter, Eric?"

"I didn't want you to die. I can't explain why," he adds before she asks him why it mattered in the first place. He can't give her an answer because the reason is still a mystery to himself. His memory has taken him back to that moment countless times since his imprisonment, and still he isn't sure why he turned his gun towards Peter instead of the obvious enemy. Perhaps it was the way she had stared them both down...as if they weren't truly a threat to her. For years, he had spent his life marveling in the death of others. He used to feed off of his victims' fear, and in that moment he remembered that she hadn't shown fear. That had caught his attention.

Never had he underestimated a person the way he had Tris Prior when he'd first met her. Never had he regretted it more than when Peter had a gun aimed at her head and knowing that he couldn't let the bullet pierce her skull.

Her inhale of breath drew his gaze to her slender neck. How could someone so small, be so powerful at the same time? "Saving my life could save yours," she says.

"I don't need your help," he rasps. Being cruel is instinctive. It's almost too easy to let the old hate take over his mind. "A disgusting stiff isn't going to be able to do anything."

To his astonishment, she smirks. "I knew you were still in there somewhere. I'm not giving you false hope, you know. I have the power to make them rethink your death. A year ago we were in opposite positions and you chose to spare me..." Lowering her head, she seems to stop breathing for several long moments. "I feel that I owe you a debt."

"You don't owe me anything."

"And yet here we are." She smiles. Not a happy smile, but also not a sad one either.

She's serious, he realizes. The magnitude of the visit finally starts to sink in and he can't breathe. Mind racing, he struggles to his feet only to lean against the wall when his legs refuse to hold his weight. "Let's say they don't kill me," he says. "What kind of life would I even have? A life behind these bars? No." He shakes his head. "I would rather die."

"I'm not sure what would happen exactly, Er-"

"Then I don't want your help," he cuts in. "I'll be fine on my own."

"You'll most likely be dead. They'll inject you with poison and then that will be the end. Is that really want you want? Are you okay with it ending like that?"

Ever so slowly he begins to sink back to the hard ground. Exhaustion grips him and he realizes what he really wants. "I just want it to be over. I don't care how."

5 seconds later she stands, looking down at him with an expression he knows to mean that he hasn't won the conversation. "I don't think I can live with that. I would apologize but I'm not sorry." With that she makes her way back up the dank hallway, leaving him alone once again.

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 **I just can't leave this pairing behind! I'm far too in love with Eric. Feedback please! Not to sound desperate, but I love reviews.**


	2. Chapter 2

One can not be born in the middle of a war and not know pain. Eric had learned that the two go hand in hand a long time ago, making his childhood a very interesting one. His mother had been nothing more than a whore, selling herself to the highest bidder. His father had left as soon as he'd figured out that the prostitute he'd found pleasure with for a night had been impregnated with his child, leaving before she could even accuse him of rape; which is something she had done many times before when she wanted a victim's money. Somehow she never got caught, or was even suspected of any illegal activity despite the fact that everyone must have known something was off. Perhaps it was that his mother had been a very beautiful woman and the men that she snuck into her bed couldn't resist her allure...after all, there had been more than one city official in their dingy house, coming and going in the dark hours of the night.

Growing up in that environment hadn't always been easy, and yet, he felt that it had strengthened him in a way nothing else could have. His mother's lifestyle had taught him two things. One- he never wanted to be under anyone's power. Two- he wanted to keep his dignity intact. For years he fought hard to make sure that he was feared and respected among his peers; and that had worked out fairly well for him. He clawed his way to the top ever since he had made it through initiation, never once looking back at the life he'd left behind.

Life had been far from easy, but he had survived. He had survived so much pain, so much hurt, which is why his current predicament was just a little bump in what had been a very bumpy road. They'd kept him far longer than he had originally assumed. A year ago he'd been sure that they would execute him within the month, but that hadn't happened. Week after week had passed with him stuck behind bars with no end to the madness in sight. And Tris had told him it might never end... he could very well spend the rest of his life in this tiny barred room, and what would he have left then? No power that he had spent his life attaining; no dignity that he'd craved for as long as he could remember. It was all gone now, leaving only emptiness instead of glory; hollowness instead of triumph.

At least in death there would be no more suffering. He would be free from the burden of living. It seemed very cruel to him that she would take away what little hope he had left. He was pondering on this thought when he heard the distinct sound of feet echoing off the stone walls. He knew the familiar gait of Tris Prior from a years worth of experience. She walked with authority and while it wasn't a heavy stomping, she walked with purpose and that could be heard for whoever cared to listen.

A sense of relief and anger swirled together in his mixed up head. It was hard to differentiate one emotion from another, the two were so closely intertwined. The intensity of his emotions gave him a headache; although, that could be the sudden brightness that came with her appearance. She had a flashlight in her hand, pointing it directly at him. For the first time since she'd started these little visits, she wasn't alone, though he couldn't place who the man she brought was. Tattoos lined his face and body with pierces decorating the empty patches. The man used to be Dauntless no doubt but instead of the usual scowl that would usually reside in the Dauntless-born, this man had unusually soft eyes.

"So this is what has become of the infamous Eric Roth," the guy murmurs, his gaze alight with interest.

"What do you want?" Eric practically growls out.

"Beck," Tris prods, not bothering to look in his direction.

Looking a little hesitant, _Beck,_ drags a single metal key out of his pants pocket. "This is extremely risky business, Tris."

"Just do it," she orders.

The sound of the latch clicking was almost deafening to his sensitive ears. He had no idea what was going on other than the fact that they had just opened his cell door and were both moving faster than lightening. Before he could fully process what was happening, Beck had slammed the cell door closed, leaving Tris on the same side as himself. Making no move to get into a defensive position, she crouched down to his level and paused as if waiting for him to make the next move. Unfortunately, he had no idea what to do.

"Hello, Eric," she greets with a secret grin playing on her pink lips.

"What's going to happen to me?" is all he can think to ask.

Mouth pursed she seems to weigh her words carefully. While she seems excited, there's a tinge of hesitation in her actions. "You're being moved to a more...comfortable environment."

So another cell. "Why couldn't you leave well enough alone?"

Her eyes cloud with frustration. "Eric, stop being an ass for two seconds and just listen to what I have to say."

"Why should I? I told you what I wanted."

"And I told you no," she snaps back, not seeming at all apologetic. "There has been too much killing. If there's anyway that I can prevent more needless deaths then I'm going to do everything I can to stop them. Can't you see that I'm just trying to help you?"

The last part is said with sad eyes and a pained expression. She looks smaller to him than usual in that moment. Perhaps the war had taken more of a toll on her than he'd thought. Though, he'd been so focused on his pain for so long, he hardly had the time to notice anyone else's. Still he felt a twinge of guilt that his reaction was hurting her.

"There's another facility a few miles from here," she soldiers on. "It was a Erudite lab before, but now it's being used to store certain war criminals. It's cleaner, above ground, and most of all it's a step in the right direction. It's a new project that Beck started; only recently was it cleared by the new council. So far there haven't been a lot of criminals cleared to go, but I've told them what you did for me...they think you're worth rehabilitating."

He chuckles darkly at that. "Do you think I will ever change? It's naive, even for you, to think that after everything I'll become some decent, caring citizen."

"I guess we'll just have to see, won't we?"

"You're wasting your time."

"I don't think so," she replies, shrugging.

Looking between her and the man named Beck, Eric thought about what she was saying and what she wasn't saying. He had very few options and he was going crazy down here, all by himself, with nothing to do. While moving from one prison to another wasn't ideal, he might as well just shut up and accept the better living conditions. "When will I get transferred?"

Smiling at his quiet resignation, she says, "We'll move you tonight."


End file.
